Symphonie Fantastique
by Felyx
Summary: Berlioz manages to survive his duel with the mercenary, and after the events of the Lynx war, he is forced to adapt to the changes that have occured for better or for worse. 4 to FA.
1. Prologue

**_Prologue_**

The ace growled, Firing off his boosters and launching his NEXT to the side as a crater formed where he stood, flames kicking up and charring the dust and sand. He shifted his eyes side to side quickly, the orange-red optics on the 03-AALIYAH head unit doing the same. His joints ached and throbbed in protest, as well as even his hands to a degree from the white knuckle grip he held onto his weapons with.

_'They weren't lying when they said he was good, he's actually got me on the defensive.'_

Berlioz had already lost his three squadmates in this intense battle, the enemy NEXTs Noblesse Oblige and Null disengaging and fleeing the combat zone due to high damage. He was effectively left alone with this other pilot, nameless as far as he knew. This had turned from a multiple NEXT bloodbath to a brutal, one on one duel.

His thoughts are cut short by the amber, golden field surrounding him dissipating with a pathetic crackle. Rifle rounds were slamming into his body and causing him to slightly stagger backward. He grunted under his breath from the pain, but quickly regathered his thoughts and resumed his high-speed maneuvers. This was beginning to turn horrific, if he couldn't turn the tide soon, this mercenary could very well take him out of the fight. Rayleonard's trump card would be gone just like that. Shells whizzed by the streamlined frame of Supplice as it smoothly boosted around, across the sand, sliding and turning, its movements comparable to and even surpassing a graceful skater as it worked in sync with its pilot. The roar of his rifles rang out as he hammered the mercenary with as many shots as he could land, their own "forcefield" shimmering and sparking from the impacts whilst they somehow managed to keep up. The sounds surely could have deafened anyone unfortunate enough to be witnessing the event without protection from them, if the radiation from the Kojima particles which made up the "Primal Armour" fields around these war machines didn't make them drop dead first. Berlioz spoke up in the midst of this dance of death.

"You continue to impress me… I can't afford to lose to a simple case of beginner's luck. You're a fine warrior. Call me sentimental, but I wish we could have met under different circumstances."

_'It's about time I wrapped this up.'_

Berlioz kept moving, as the Ogoto grenade cannon attached to his right back mount unfolded and deployed, the firearm seemed like it was maybe as long as of Supplices height. He slid to a stop, boosters whining as they eased up, before he steadied himself, taking aim; He fired at the mercenary, their midweight descending for an aerial attack.

He heard the wicked sound of metal warping as the force of the recoil caused Supplice's body to twist a bit to the right, stifling a scream of pain by mentally gritting his teeth. The grenade he had fired off soared through the air with a whistle towards his adversary, closing in before their boosters flared brightly… And they blasted to their left, avoiding the grenade as it moved in its now uninterrupted parabola over the horizon.

_'What?! They dodged that?!'_

The enemy readjusted quickly, swooping down on Supplice and Berlioz, who tried to recover from the recoil of firing the Ogoto, but Rayleonard's ace was slow, sluggish from the insane amount of time they had actually spent fighting. This hesitation is what allowed them to ignite a laser blade on their left arm and slice away. Supplice had its legs easily removed as the blade cut through Primal Armour and plating alike like a hot knife through warm butter, the sound of metal bubbling and boiling away. Within seconds, Berlioz had found himself on his back, looking up at his attacker, Trying his best to stifle his cries of agony. He refused to give up, however, as Supplice began to lean up the best it could, leveling the MARVE Assault rifle in its left hand with his executioner's core. They stepped forward, knocking the gun away with a backhand, the heavy almost vehicle sized device flying away and skidding to a stop in the sand. A foot was put on Supplice's chest, pushing him back down before the NEXT aimed it's rifle and fired.

Several rounds slammed into the head unit, shattering optics and punching holes through metal. Berlioz howled in suffering. He couldn't see. He couldn't fight back. Rounds then punched into the joints of his arms, only putting him through more discomfort as they fell limp to his sides, slamming down into the sand and spilling out hydraulic fluid. He felt every bit of this, as his attacker refused to relent, gunshots filling the air like thunder accompanied by shell casings spinning away smoking into the sand. That is, until he finally went silent, what remained of the optics on Supplice's head fading out with a dull whine.

Satisfied with their work, the white and grey NEXT stepped backward and off of Supplice, racking the charging handle on their rifle. Finally, their operator spoke.

"_Thinker_, confirming mission success. Come on home."


	2. Rêveries – Passions

**_Rêveries – Passions_**

It has been a solid eight years since Berlioz was defeated in the ruins of the abandoned city. After his defeat, Anatolia and Aspina led a cooperative operation. Rayleonard, defenseless now that its team of Originals was taken out of the fight, suffered a fatal attack on their corporate headquarters of Exavil. This mission effectively cut the head off the snake, as all of their top leadership perished at the hands of Anatolia's mercenary. This mercenary is the same one who had claimed victory against Berlioz. After this event, faith in the corporation rapidly plummeted, and anyone who had invested in them rushed to sell their stocks. Rayleonard couldn't keep up, which led to the liquidation of all their assets and ultimately their downfall. Their employees would be picked up and assimilated by the other corporations for years to come.

Simultaneously, Joshua O'Brien, pilot of the NEXT White Glint, had singlehandedly destroyed AkvaVit, A subsidiary which acted as Rayleonard's Research and Development department. There was no recovery from these fatal blows, and AkvaVit also found itself brought to its knees. Shortly after, however, Joshua was contacted by Omer Science Technology. They threatened to destroy Aspina and everyone who resided in it unless he went on one final mission. His objective was to destroy Anatolia and with it their mercenary. The battle ensued, and as Anatolia burned its mercenary faced off against the same man they once considered an ally. There was only one way it was thought to be destined to end; Joshua used a prototype Armored Core called the 00-ARETHA, filled to the brim with firepower, armor, AND speed. Despite this cutting edge technology, the mercenary emerged as the winner, but at the cost of O'Brien's life. He was inevitably killed when the 00-ARETHAs Kojima reactor exploded, irradiating the colony where they fought and leaving it an uninhabitable smoldering ruin; It was likely to remain in this wasteland like state for even centuries after the battle. The mercenary, deciding to honor Joshua's legacy, inherited the White Glint and had its designer make custom, high-quality parts for it. After this, is history as humanity knows it.

Berlioz groaned, stirring to angrily push the button on the top of the shrill device screaming at him to wake up. It, of course, obeyed his command and silenced itself before he groggily got to his feet and stretched; His limbs and muscles ached slightly in protest. A nearby radio filled the room with its song, the signal nice and clear.

_(Recommended: Listen to Everything Is Going To Be Okay from Prey Original Soundtrack)_

A voice filled the room with its warmth, as a male AI spoke out. "Good morning, Berlioz Lamond. The time is seven-thirty AM, and the weather outside is a cool and crisp 12 degrees celsius. You have 0 New Messages."

"Thank you, Silas." The Lynx responded rather groggily, stepping over to a terminal in the corner of the room whilst still wiping the residue out of his eyes. As he approached the device, it powered on with a rather clean sounding whine, The Collard Logo appearing before an interface came on screen. Almost instantly he was made aware of a red "1" beside his inbox. "Silas, I thought you said I had no new messages?"

"I was certain you didn't, Mr. Lamond. That must have arrived just now."

"Don't worry about it, It'll be fine." He pressed a digit to the red number on the screen, his inbox opening up before he clicked on the new message with not even a hint of hesitation in his movements.

_Mr. Lamond,__We would like to thank you for your outstanding performance in the field. Payment of 30,000 credits should be transferred directly to your Collard account by 12:00 noon today as a reward for your diligent work and unending commitment. We are also proud to announce that your skill has awarded you access to extra tuning services free of charge for "Supplice". You have also retained your Rank 1 status for another 3 full calendar months, earning you a bonus of another 150,000 credits from Collard itself. You are now approved for use of our newest Assault Armor equipped overboost unit. We hope you will put it to good use, and give us some data to help improve it.__Signed,__Omer Science Technology._

Berlioz simply sighed. Payday again, not that it would help him that much. Omer seemed to only be getting more greedy of its payments to the Lynx under its control as time went by. He could manage to eat well enough, sure, but factor in the other drains on his finances and he wasn't left with much at all. These scraps were simply stored in a separate account for if he ever needed them. One such drain was his NEXT itself. Supplice used Rayleonard parts still, AALIYAH frame parts and boosters. These parts are infamous for being costly to maintain AND difficult to use, meaning whoever used them was likely either stupid and assumed there were no better options, or very skilled and as such successful enough to use them well. One thing is for certain, he'd be lucky to be able to afford his own vacation. "Silas, who's in house right now?"

"Lynx in the facility include May Greenfield, Otsdarva, Roadie, Lilium Wolcott, Strayed, and Mrs. Theresia. Would you like the location of any of them?"

He pondered for a moment before he decided to seek someone out, taking even himself by surprise. "Hm… Yeah, where's Strayed?"

"He can be found in the ACSIS, He is currently overseeing work on his NEXT."

"I'm headed to talk to him, I haven't met the kid just yet."

"Of course, sir. I'll be here whenever you may return."

Berlioz got to his feet, the light from his terminal smoothly fading out as he did so, before grabbing a flask from the counter. He swirled it to make sure it had anything in it and was pleased to know he did indeed have the material capability to consume whatever this gobbledygook was made of, storing it away in the pocket of the jacket he wore. The former Rayleonard Lynx sighed before making his way to and out of the door, it automatically locks with an audible click as he closed it. The transition from his room to the hall was brutal, his room at least had a feeling of atmosphere to it. He had moved from the calming greys and crimsons he had grown to love to a clean, crisp, hospital-like atmosphere. Fluorescent lighting was embedded in the roof in a set pattern, shining on the whites and greys of the walls and cold, tiled floors. Without further ado, he set off down the hallway, making his way through the labyrinth that is the Collard facility.

_(Recommended: Listen to Ain't No Rest For The Wicked by Cage The Elephant)_

His entrance into the ACSIS wasn't a quiet, peaceful one, as he was greeted by the sounds of screeching power saws and hissing plasma cutters, not to mention the whir of the machinery that moved around NEXT equipment. His eyes followed the large, moving pieces before he took control again and focused, looking for this "Strayed" Character. Strayed was an odd case from what Berlioz knew, an incredibly fresh Lynx in the ranks and so far unranked in Collard. Nobody knew his real name, which is why he shared his name with his NEXT. He's apparently incredibly reclusive, rarely going out into the public, and him talking to anyone for any period of time was rarer still. Some of the few surviving Originals and veterans even praised him for his skill, calling him a prodigy. One thing was certain, which was that even the corporations were watching and assessing him. Eventually, his eyes were drawn to the sight of a Lynx being confronted by a girl; He realized her as Lilium Wolcott, a Lynx under direct contract from the Bernard And Felix Foundation. He strained to hear what they were saying over the noise, but he miraculously managed to catch it.

"Strayed, You seemed ESPECIALLY excited about that mission."

"I'm especially excited for lots of missions, Your point?"

"My point? MY POINT? You targetted our eighth fleet; Need I explain that BFFs enemy is mine as well? Surely you understand that much?"

"Alright, pint-size, listen. We're Lynx. If it wasn't BFF I would have been sicced onto another corporation, and you know this is how we make our living. Oh, maybe you don't? Seeing as you have a direct pipeline to the top? You probably don't know what it means to rely on missions for your sole income."

"How dare-"

"How dare I? How dare I what? Look, if you can make better offers to me I may consider actually working on your side, but it's called picking your benefits."

Lilium simply growled in response, glaring at Strayed as he continued scrolling through a holographic display of numbers that are presumably the numerical specs of his NEXT before sighing and stomping off, defeated. Berlioz saw this as an opportune time to go up and say hello, looking over Strayed's shoulder at the configuration he had. A Rosenthal manufactured machine, interestingly enough. A new generation TYPE-LANCEL frame, Its armaments consisted of an old RF-100 basic rifle for the right arm, and an EB-500, a shield-shaped device that also doubled up as a laser blade projector. It had no shoulder extension equipment to speak of, but it made up for it in the fact that it had a chaingun in one back mount and a scatter missile pod in the other. Overall, pretty well balanced, nice and maneuverable whilst not sacrificing attack power.

"Hey, kid, have you considered trying out the Judith main booster instead of Hogire? It has way more vertical thrust if that's what you're looking for."

"Hm?" Strayed glanced over his shoulder, a look of contemplation in his eyes. "Tempting… I feel like it doesn't have the versatility and efficiency a Hogire booster does, though. And you are?"

"I'm Berlioz, former Rayleonard Lynx turned Omer Science."

"Oh, wait, Rank 1?" The "rookie" seemed legitimately starstruck for a moment before he regathered his composure. "What are you doing here?"

"I've heard a little about you, and you seemed interesting enough to meet."

"Me? Interesting? Someone must be putting something in the Soma." He responded, gesturing to the flask in Berlioz's hand, right as he had unscrewed the cap. Soma, the "Nectar of immortality". Even those inside the NEXTs weren't completely safe from the Kojima radiation they emitted; This strange solution was made as a countermeasure for this. Consuming it both increased resistance to the contamination, and removed a little bit of it at the same time. It also just extended lifespan in general.

"Nobody but me, no. It looks like you're building up quite a track record already, the corporations are blown away with how your skill has climbed so fast."

"They'd be blown away anyway, we can operate NEXTs and they can't."

"Well… True enough, I suppose." He paused for a moment. "Uh… Do you have any missions soon you wanna go on?"

"I'm due for one in about three hours." Strayed just smiles. "I have some time to kill though, so I was looking at new parts coming on the market."

"Come on, there are better ways to live than work all the time."

"Isn't that how you got to rank one?"

"Not exactly… I'll tell you what, come with me. I think we have time to get some drinks."

Strayed raises an eyebrow. "Do I look like I can spare much for something as fine as liquor?"

"Hey, there's SOME perks to rank one. If there wasn't, hell, someone else could have it."

"Wouldn't that basically mean that you die?"

"I know what I said. Come on."


	3. Scorcher

**_Scorcher_**

"_Strayed_ here. How are you holding up, old man?"

Berlioz sighed, answering over the comms channel. "_Supplice _acknowledges, You know this isn't my first rodeo. Far from it."

"So how long have you been fighting? Not just in a NEXT, I mean."

"...Most if not all of my adult life, if not more."

"More? You're joking."

"I joined Rayleonard's armed forces early. Early enough that when they went testing for potential NEXT pilots, I got tested and was found to have the highest compatibility with the AMS. I was then given an AALIYAH frame, and forced to fight in the National Dismantlement War."

"So it's not a lie when people say you're an Original… Old man must be an understatement."

"Hey, I'm still walking and talking, aren't I? I think I'm still plenty young. Joints are aching a bit, but that's normal."

"You get that too?"

"Think about it. These things can move in bursts upwards of thousands of kilometers an hour, close to 3000 for Supplice. That's even faster than some fighter jets. Pilots of those suffer joint degradation all the time just from the sheer g-forces they experience. If it wasn't for the Soma, I wouldn't be able to walk without a constant dose on pain meds."

"Isn't the AMS supposed to nullify that?"

"It nullifies us being pasted from moving so fast and stopping so suddenly. It's no miracle system, but it works. As long as I come back from my missions I've learned to not look into it any more than that, really."

"I suppose…"

Berlioz just slightly chuckles, the red "eyes" on Supplice glancing back and forth before he lets up on his booster power; it takes Strayed around 4 seconds, give or take, to catch up with him. Sometimes he forgets just how high-speed Supplice can be. On the horizon, he can see the location they're headed for.

Line Ark. A crisp, white, democratic city-state. The last of its kind on the surface, really. It and its sympathizers are seen as terrorists to the League Of Ruling Corporations, seeing as it's a big enough power to threaten their control. Anyone not on a corporation's payroll is an unknown variable, something that can't be controlled. Physically, it takes the form of a gigantic highway, stretching for insane distances in either direction. In the water below and around this mega highway, buildings rose and sparkled in the strangely uncontaminated sunlight, each of the gargantuan buildings having a design unique to itself. A "Utopia," pretty much the only one of note that has escaped both the physical and nonphysical poisons of the corporations. Strayed's mission for the day is to attack it, and deal as much damage as possible. Berlioz felt sickened at the thought of activating Primal Armour this close to a populated area.

This, of course, didn't seem to stop Strayed. To the Ace's horror, he saw a slightly distorted haze around his partner. Shortly after, a spark of lightning shot across and through the Kojima particles, rectifying them into a Primal Armour field. He could barely stop himself from yelling out.

"Kid, what the-"

"Relax. They knew what they were dealing with. Look at the buildings."

Berlioz followed the pointing finger of the blue NEXT, looking at one of the two colossal towers that stood tall, side by side the highway. The first thing he noticed was that the glass seemed incredibly thick and that the construction of these buildings as well as all the others didn't cut any corners. They didn't sacrifice safety for cost.

"Aegisterean, Berlioz. You can activate Assault armor, or better yet, just bombard this place in Kojima nukes, and the radiation likely won't make it inside. They thought ahead of the League, obviously, they'd send a NEXT here sooner or later. Plus they have one of their own, I think."

"Wait, wh-"

"Get ready." Strayed looks forward again, several Muscle Tracer units taking up positions further down the highway in an attempt to block their path deeper into Line Ark. Crude, reverse jointed machines with boxy bodies and no arms, just autocannons attached to either side of the body/cockpit. These things stood no chance against even a normal Armored Core, much less a NEXT. And yet here they stood, blocking their progress in an attempt to fight for what they believe is right.

(Recommended: Listen to _Scorcher_ by _FreQuency_)

Strayed lowers his head, as he blasts towards the Line Ark forces with not even a hint of hesitation. "_Strayed_, commencing hostilities."

Berlioz focused in, clutching the two rifles he held, before zooming in after him. "_Supplice_, Let's get this done."

The MTs opened fire, focusing on Strayed first, but as one might predict, every round that threatened him was stopped or melted through by the Primal Armor field.

"League NEXTS?!"

"Primal Armor?! Our weapons can't even scratch it at this rate!-" The soldier who said this was cut off, literally, as Strayed glided towards his MT. He spun around smoothly, the EB-500 Laser blade on his left arm igniting, before slicing through the midsection of the MT diagonally. Metal bubbled and boiled as the blade passed through, virtually without resistance. At least it's likely that soldier died quick. The chaingun on Strayed's right side back mount unfolded, its fearsome sound of thunder ringing through the air as it fired at some approaching adversaries. Berlioz maneuvered Supplice through their first line, deciding to take on the second line of MTs that was now approaching. He leveled his rifles, squeezing the triggers and tearing a poor MT to shreds. Their armor plating never has, and never _will_ stand a chance against NEXT weaponry, as evidenced by the machine, or what's left of it, falling onto its side before bursting into flame. The jet black AALIYAH spun to face another one now attempting to flank him, swinging its rifle into their cockpit. What resulted was not pretty; the metal somehow managed to hold, but it had crushed inward so far that it's safe to assume its pilot got crushed in the blink of an eye. It hurtled to the side, the hit sending it flying off of the highway and into the waters below. If that attack didn't kill him, the water would.

"Where are our Normals?!" Another soldier desperately cried over the comms, backing away as his MT still defiantly held its aim on Supplice. The shells slammed into the PA field, causing Berlioz a bit of discomfort which he managed to ignore as he just glided over.

"What?... No, no! Don't come any closer!" The pilot begged and pleaded as the veteran closed in, red optics practically burning through the cockpit and sending fear through him. The MTs movements were also way more sporadic and shaky, the poor man couldn't even hold the controls still. Berlioz reached the MT and fired his left-hand rifle, tearing the MTs legs from underneath it as the cockpit fell to the ground. He then blasted the weapons off the sides of it, before stopping. It was now effectively little more than a box, but the pilot was still safe inside. He'd live to fight another day.

"Supplice, think fast!"

Berlioz silently turned, as Strayed sent a Normal skidding towards him. He raised his MARVE assault rifle once more, lining it up with the core.

"OH MY GOD-" The pilot's voice was cut off as the rifle passed straight through, impaling the machine and punching through metal. He held the position for a second, before he watched red liquid trickle down the weapon, then pulling the rifle out and letting the Normal fall backward.

"...One Normal. That's disappointing."Strayed sighs, quite obviously disappointed. As a matter of fact, he sounded bored.

"Don't get cocky. We've done our bit, it's time for us to go, kid. You said they have a NEXT, I don't want to stay around to meet them if I don't have to. Shouldn't be too long before they get here."


	4. Dirty Worker

_**Dirty Worker**_

Berlioz yawned, descending the steps of the gantry that held the now inactive Supplice. After a brief delay, the red eyes that dotted the head unit faded out with a quiet whine. Radiation also wouldn't be an issue, as standard policy states NEXTs must discharge their Primal Armor fields at a certain distance from the Collard facility. Strayed also disembarks, meeting up with Berlioz once the two are on the ground and some of the adrenaline has left their veins. A pro of the job, at least, is that it's unlikely being a Lynx will ever get old. Every mission has different circumstances, different parameters, different protocols. No two battles would ever be identical.

"You sure we couldn't have hung around a little longer? Caused just a little more trouble?" Strayed inquired, breaking the silence.

"They have one Lynx. It would be careless of them to deploy him somewhere too far away, where he can't hurry back home if he's needed. Best to make a surgical strike; get in, then bail before they can scramble any more units."

The veteran sighed. Sure, Strayed was a rookie. What else should he expect? But at the same time, he felt the young man lacked a bit of common sense. Berlioz knows better than anyone that sometimes turning your mind off during battle can save your life, that only survival instinct can get you through some situations. It seemed like Strayed did just that, but perhaps too much, exchanging tactical knowledge for pure skill in combat. After all, isn't that what an Operator is for?

One thing couldn't be denied, though; Strayed gave impressive results. Seeing him on the battlefield only confirmed what Berlioz already knew from his records. The boy is _brilliant_. Even in all his years on end of combat with other Lynx, the original had never seen someone who possessed a style even remotely similar. His movements just… flowed. Every bit as natural as an actual human body would move, He seemed to know when to evade, when to fire, when to aggress… It was a sixth sense definitely uncommon for someone of his experience.

"Hey, Berlioz? Berlioz!"

"Wha?-"

"You kind of went 'thousand-yard stare' on me for a second, buddy. You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking. Let's go be a little social."

The first thing Berlioz's eyes were drawn to was a minuscule dessert bar, tucked away in the corner beside the other foodstuffs that could be found in the rather roomy cafeteria. He could only wonder how the delicacies had ended up here, seeing as it was only on rare occasions the Lynx could treat themselves to sweets.

'_Maybe they're for a VIP or something?...'_

This thought was subverted as Strayed swooped by, earning an incredulous look from Berlioz as the rookie swiped a pastry from the bar, heading to a table with a group of other Lynx. "They should know better than to leave it out in the open. Try the strawberry."

Berlioz shortly joined the table of Lynx, not before hesitatingly taking a strawberry pastry for himself at Strayed's suggestion. Quite a few eyes widened at the sight of him, considering the recluse he is. He's well known, sure, but only a handful have actually engaged in conversation with him.

A young man was the first to greet him. "Hey, Berlioz! He lives!"

"Hey, hey, I've got some fight in me yet."

Berlioz recognized this man; it was Roadie, a GA Lynx. An original like himself. They had both seen conflict in not only the Lynx War but also the National Dismantlement War, the latter of which is famous for setting the stage for corporations to rise. Although Berlioz was regarded as the hero of the conflict, he doubts that he was the only reason world governments were brought to their knees in mere months. There were other Lynx, he wished they just got the credit they deserved.

Also among the group was Lilium, the BFF Lynx from before. There was also May Greenfield, currently conversing with her. Lilium didn't seem to mind the presence of Strayed, which led Berlioz to conclude she doesn't hold onto anger for that long. As a matter of fact, she seemed to be quite the polite type, usually keeping a cool head and trying to give off a more pleasant air. She may be a little on the short side, but she's definitely a gentle soul.

May Greenfield was a Lynx employed under Global Armaments, most commonly known as GA. Other Lynx have given her the nickname "Smiley" due to the emblem she uses on her NEXT. A support type truly fitted her, as she's usually the first to approach new arrivals to Collard and is, in general, the type to keep morale up. The green-haired Lynx was, by all means, a social butterfly.

Another person sat at the table with them, however, it wasn't someone Berlioz recognized. A head of blackish-brown hair, strangely striking azure blue eyes. Eyes that showed fatigue, much like the rest of his appearance. He wore a pure, white scarf that was comfortably wrapped around his neck, as well as casualwear that was heavily worn, so much so that Berlioz struggled to pinpoint their origin. Although Berlioz couldn't put a name to this individual, he could tell that he's been fighting for a very long time.

"Hello, Berlioz." He spoke up, a slight smirk visible at the corner of his lips. "Glad you haven't died yet."

He could only respond to this with a delayed nod, drinking some Soma from his flask. This had quickly turned awkward.

"So, you went on a mission with Strayed?" May inquired, Lilium following her gaze.

"He did." Strayed quipped quickly through a mouth half full of strawberry pastry.

"How was it?"

"Eh… The kid has a long way to go."

"What?"

"Not too bad, though. He can definitely hold his own."

"Well, obviously. I don't think I would have made it back if I couldn't, would I?-"

"You know what, if I hear a smart remark like that again, you won't be able to get back out there for three months. At LEAST."

Strayed just went silent at this, freezing up before turning his attention back to his pastry. Berlioz sighed.

"Geez… Go easy on him, alright Berlioz? He's still like, our newest Lynx."

"Right, right. Sorry about that."

"'Hold his own…'" The stranger murmured.

"Pardon?"

Berlioz found himself locking eyes with him.

"Something I'm glad you've gotten even better at." His expression changed to one of seriousness.

Berlioz briefly shivered. Upon him saying that it felt like a ghost had just walked straight through him. Chills rippled through every fiber of his being, He doubted there was anywhere on Earth that was colder than the vibe that gave him. The whole table had fallen silent, everyone looking at the encounter between the two.

"Rayleonard's prized ace and hero of the National Dismantlement War… The god of the battlefield. You could have died that day, you know? Now, look at you. You don't even need teammates anymore to give impressive results."

"I-I'm sorry?"

"No, that's on me. Probably should have kept my mouth shut on that one."

"How do you know about that battle?"

"How else would I know? I fought there."


	5. Afterimage

_**Afterimage**_

Berlioz was relieved to finally be back in his room, especially away from that stranger. He had excused himself, leaving before he could be hit with any more surprises. That was too much for the time being, he just wanted to be alone and decompress.

"Good evening, Mr. Lamond. Your pulse is accelerated beyond your usual beats per minute; is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Search my inbox, are there any new mission requests?"

"Sir, you have a direct message from an unidentified sender."

"What? Pull it up." Berlioz knew he may regret looking even deeper into this situation, considering it seems to be unwrapping quickly enough. It seems like a one in a million chance that all of this would happen after a mission, especially one of the nature he had undertaken. The message he requested to see opened up on the monitor at his workstation after a short delay.

_Mr. Berlioz Lamond,_

_We at Line Ark, like many others, know of your impressive track record as a Lynx. I realize that you participated in an attack on Line Ark, but I wish to inform you that it isn't too late to make the right choice and stand alongside us. All I ask is that you consider this offer, and take as long as you need to make your choice._

_Signed, _

_01001010 01100001 01101101 01100101 01110011_

Berlioz puts a hand to his forehead, looking over the message over and over. He never really did like the corporations, sure, but wasn't this his way of life? Take missions from some big company, come back, and get paid? That's the way it's always been, and he isn't much of a fan of change. What could happen to him if he switched sides? Was captured? And who sent this message?

He closes the message, leaning back in the desk chair at the workstation for a minute or two before looking at the job board. The missions here were public, available for any Lynx who finds themselves wanting to do it. Standard work was visible, like clearing out factories militias and warlords had taken over. Escorting supply convoys. There was one, however, that caught his eye.

It was a mission requested by another Lynx. An up and coming Omer pilot. Interestingly enough, the photo showed a younger Lynx, seemingly of Nordic descent to a degree. The mission description said he was a rookie, and needed training from a professional and ranked Lynx. Berlioz couldn't help but crack a small smile and accept the mission request.

Berlioz couldn't help but think about how wondrous NEXT and AMS technology really was. There he stood, in the middle of a grassy field. Even though he was wired into a crude machine made for war and destruction only, he could feel every sensation, every touch upon the metal plating as if it happened to him. He could feel even the faintest things, like the tingling feeling of the grass at Supplice's feet. He didn't feel like he was "controlling" a machine at all, the cool breeze flowing into and around the streamlined AALIYAH frame. As a matter of fact, he could even smell the fresh, uncontaminated air, untouched by the warmongering species known as man. During this calm, he couldn't help but think about how special this mission actually is.

Who's to say Berlioz's training won't go one to make the rookie Rank 1 someday? Not only that but also the fact that nobody lasts forever, with him way higher up in his years than most Lynx. By doing this he'd get to pass on some of his knowledge so that the style he has spent years perfecting wouldn't go to waste. He could effectively make a clone of himself. An Afterimage.

Berlioz wouldn't have to wait long, as he noticed another NEXT approaching over the horizon. Even from this distance, he could tell that it was a TYPE-LAHIRE, a brand new frame Omer had developed. The similarities to Supplice were quite obvious. The TYPE-LAHIRE took some tips from the 03-AALIYAH frame, which can be seen in the similarity of their streamlined designs. Both are designed for extremely high-speed fighting, meant to overwhelm the opponent with sheer speed. However, it's quite likely the TYPE-LAHIRE cannot only do almost everything an AALIYAH can do but can surpass it as well.

The blue machine came to a stop a short distance away, at least its Lynx seemed polite enough to keep his Primal Armor deactivated for now. "Excuse me," They nervously crackled over the comms, "Are you… Uh… Berlioz, was it?"

He responded by making "eye" contact with the newcomer, Supplice's red optics shifting smoothly with his vision. "That would be me. The first tip, don't judge a Lynx solely on the NEXT they use, just saying that right now because I bet you think I'm going to drill sergeant you. You'll make it back, I promise you that."

The LAHIRE before him loosened up, as its inhabitant was clearly put at ease by how casual Berlioz was when addressing him. "Got it… I'm Otsdarva. This NEXT is Stasis."

"A TYPE-LAHIRE, eh? It seems similar enough to the 03-AALIYAH. Don't worry, I'll teach you what I can."

"Alright, I'll just turn on Primal Armor then."

"So," Supplice stood up straight as it gripped its rifles. "Here's how this is going to work. You can take as many hits as your Primal Armor can absorb, but the first shot that deals actual damage will mark the end of the round. Then, we'll recharge and start again. I'll go easy on you this first one, so just show me what you can do."

The two circled one another, just taking steps before their boosters ignited, both of them speeding toward each other. Berlioz focused in on his instincts, lining up his rifles with his target and squeezing the triggers. Otsdarva seemed to have a basic grip on movement at least, as he quickly boosted to the left and forward towards Berlioz, closing even more distance. With a smooth movement, Berlioz met him in close quarters, raising the rifle in his left hand and swinging it as a makeshift club. It impacts the Primal Armor field, amber sparks spreading across it from the point of impact as it faded a little bit.

Berlioz's adversary, however, didn't seem to panic, as they just took a step back and leveled their assault rifle with his core. What seemed like a crude, Omer version of the MARVE fired off shells, colliding with Berlioz's PA in brilliant flashes of light. Supplice proceeded to maneuver backward and to the left, starting a circling motion around Stasis, before the roar of its twin rifles filled the fields, gargantuan shells spinning away from their chambers. Stasis attempted to also gain some distance, moving back. However…

'_Wait… He's trying to keep me at medium range. In a TYPE-LAHIRE, at that.'_

As Stasis continued taking hits to its PA, some shots missing and grazing it, the four barreled contraption on its right back mount shifted and activated. Missiles fired from each of the barrels, taking to the sky.

'_Those are PM Missiles… He missed.'_

Berlioz was soon proven wrong, however, as the missiles changed their course, streaking towards his flanks from above. Sluggishly, he activated his boosters and feinted left before boosting to the right. The missiles went harmlessly streaking away as Supplice fired off a few rounds, finally shattering Stasis' PA as a round pinged against their armor plating.

"Alright! Not bad, not bad at all for the first match!"

"Thank you, sir," Otsdarva replied, a haze visible around Stasis as its generator pumped out Kojima Particles to rebuild the PA. "May I try again?"

The two went at it for hours, until surprisingly, Stasis began to go on a winning streak. Berlioz's body ached from all of the impacts he had now taken and was now standing still for a moment to catch his breath. Perhaps he had underestimated this rookie? Maybe he really does have what it takes. But Berlioz didn't want to leave the field until he had the last laugh.

"Alright, I think we can agree that's enough holding back from me. Allow me to show you how I really fight."

"Hm? Oh, alright. Show me why you're Rank 1!"

(Recommended: Listen to _Mr. Adam_ by _FreQuency_)

Supplice then stirred, taking multiple flash steps as Stasis fired both of its rifles. The 03-AALIYAH smoothly weaved through lasers fired from the left arm weapon, whilst rounds fired from the right arm slammed into Primal Armor. Supplice raised its weapons once more, pounding on Stasis' PA field and moving with what seemed like unmatchable speed and finesse.

"What?! A midweight shouldn't be able to move like that!-" Otsdarva fell back, attempting to keep range from Berlioz and avoid this now relentless assault. Supplice managed to keep up with and even surpass Stasis' speed, blasting past it and sliding on the grass. The machines mechanical feet disturbed and dug up dirt and plant roots as it moved, firing a few rounds from the BFF rifle in its right hand before it clicked. It just threw the rifle at the lightweight NEXT before it, before gaining some distance.

"Dog me, will you?!" Otsdarva now seemed somewhat frantic, spinning around and activating the missile launcher on his back as he took to the sky. Berlioz now knew exactly how these missiles behaved. As they ascended and spiraled downward toward him, he activated the flares on his shoulders, causing the warheads to lose their tracking and slam into the ground around him. This kicked up a dust cloud, an improvised smokescreen.

Otsdarva saw an opportunity, approaching the cloud with all weapons at the ready. He, however, was met with Supplice getting right up close in practically the blink of an eye. Before he could even speak, the MARVE assault rifle was lined up with the core, with no PA to keep it away.

"...Checkmate." Berlioz said coldly, lowering the weapon. "You have a long way to go, kid. Don't give up just yet."


	6. White Nightmare

_**White Nightmare**_

A/N: This very special scene was brought to you with help from another writer! This was a collaboration with FlyingCelica, whom you can find on Archive Of Our Own and Tumblr. Make sure to realize that this would have been a humongous undertaking if not for having someone like her willing to help! Now, you came to read, so I'll leave you to it. Enjoy what I believe to be our most climactic chapter yet, _White Nightmare!_

Berlioz awakened, quickly sitting up in bed and disturbing the grey blankets that still held to his form. In the process though, he learned it's probably best to never do that again, as he quickly got lightheaded and fell out of the bed with a thud. He groaned as the alarm clock beside his bed began to beep over and over.

"I know, I know…" Berlioz whined, getting back up the best he can and pressing the button to disable the now-late wakeup call. He brings his hand up to his face, brushing some of his black hair out of his vision. He then stands up the rest of the way and looks around with a sigh. His flask was inside of a machine on the "kitchen" counter, filling up with more Soma just like it was supposed to. His terminal came to life, displaying its Collard logo before switching over to his private inbox. He had received a personal mission request from the League Of Ruling Corporations; one that shocked even him as he took the time to read it. Surely they had to be insane?

_Mission Request: Defeat White Glint._

This sent his head spinning. White Glint was Line Ark's only NEXT, and despite being Collard rank 9, he was far too dangerous for _anyone_ to face one on one in conventional combat. This was a sign of desperation, a sign that the League was done playing around and wanted Line Ark put down at any cost. It clearly stated as well that Berlioz was not to bring any backup, he would be all alone with a NEXT considered a hero by anti-corporation groups the world over. Even more concerning, there was no option to decline or close the mission request window. The veteran could only watch in disbelief as the countdown ticked to zero, the mission is accepted and a flashing message telling him to report to his NEXT popped up.

'_Better not be late to my execution.'_ Berlioz thought as he quickly grabbed everything he needed, and set off for the ACSIS.

'_This is insane…'_

Upon arriving, he had to slip through a small group of engineers to get to Supplice. He raced up the steps of the gantry holding the 03-AALIYAH, quickly flipping the switches to open the core before climbing in. He is then consumed by the darkness of Supplice's interior before he felt wires pierce his skin and neural gel began to fill up the cockpit. Before long, he lost connection to his physical body, the optics on the head unit lit up as he opened his eyes and maneuvered the ten-meter tall machine out of the facility.

The high output boosters propelled him through the air at their incredible speed, closer to the place where he was sure he was meant to die. Normally, he would consider the mega highway to be impressive, but it seemed as though everything now had a filter of grey over it. He couldn't seem to find a silver lining to this _anywhere_, as he slid to a stop close to the center of the highway. Off in the distance, approaching from straight ahead, he could swear he saw a strange white "X", and it only seemed to be getting bigger as time went by. He wouldn't have to be uneasy about this for long, as soon it came into view and terrified him.

A completely custom NEXT frame. The head was retracted, fitting into the core like a turtles head fits into the shell and improving its aerodynamics. The "X" turned out to be booster exhaust; the monochromatic NEXT was using Overboost, and on its back was clusters of smaller thrusters in the shape of what looked similar to angel wings. These thrusters were enabling it to move fast, _very _fast, Berlioz guessed they could be going upwards of twenty-two hundred kilometers per hour _at least._ When the enemy finally slid to a stop in front of him, petrified was a weak word to describe how he felt. The white head deployed and turned upwards, azure blue eyes staring right into the crimson, orange-yellow of Supplice's optics.

They were both quiet for a moment as they stared each other down, Berlioz in silent reminiscence and White Glint in an assumed moment of respect. A standoff, a moment's reprieve before they launched into bitter combat. The last time he had been in a fight that began this way… _No, best not to think about that._

(Recommended: Listen to _Remember_ by _FreQuency, Armored Core For Answer OST_)

White Glint dashes forward, a bright white light charging up the air particles around him. Assault Armor. Berlioz quickly maneuvers Supplice into a dash to the left, aiming and firing off his MARVE assault rifle at the opponent, the rounds clanging off the outer armor of the enemy NEXT. He was hard to hit, and shots landed were few and far between. Berlioz could practically feel Supplice shudder at the sheer force of the Assault Armor passing by so close. If Supplice could sweat, the sea levels below would probably be rising. This was close, too close, and-

The Assault Armour explodes outwards, rattling Supplice's armor plating and sending scalding hot flashes of pain across Berlioz's body. The PA field takes the hit, and Berlioz watches with dread as the field counter goes down, the bar turning red as the Kojima particles failed to keep their form. White Glint was hard on the offensive, he wanted this to end quickly.

Quickboosting to the side and away from White Glint, Supplice swivels on its feet and quickly fires from the OGOTO grenade launcher. It was best to take the offensive now that the Assault Armor caused White Glint's PA field to be temporarily downed. Not for as long as it would take Supplice's to regenerate, which would take roughly 13 seconds if he trusted his metrics, so it would be best to keep him at a distance until then.

White Glint takes the opportunity to fire his SALINE-05 Spread Missile Launchers, and in a ray of smoke two missiles shoot from his back, arcing across the sky towards Supplice. They open up midair, splitting into eight missiles each, spreading to hit Supplice from several directions. Brandishing both guns in his hands, Berlioz quickly tracks all the missiles, Quickboosting to the left as he shoots down most of the missiles. One nails him square in the shoulder, knocking him off balance and causing him to stagger. He swivels, pulling the trigger of his right hand and firing the 051ANNR in an arc at White Glint.

A return round of 051ANNR rounds pound into Supplice as he recovers from his stagger, and Berlioz winces at the impacts. Supplice's red optics lock on to White Glint just as the enemy's Primal Armor regenerates, the field of particles glittering in the sunlight. Berlioz takes a moment to check his diagnostics. Supplice's functions were at around 85%, and White Glint seemed to have about as much damage. Good. Taking a deep breath, Berlioz charges into battle, Quick Boosting from side to side to avoid the fire of the enemy NEXT's 063ANAR as White Glint jumps in the air, Quick Boosting towards him.

Supplice raises its MARVE rifle as their guns collide, each using their weapons as makeshift swords, swinging at each other. The grinding of metal on metal is intense as their guns collide and slide off each other, rounds being fired off into the air and the ground around them. Supplice's Primal Armor field comes back online, the Kojima particles of his field interacting with that of White Glint's, bright light radiating from both the fields as they grind against each other, fighting for dominance. A blow lands against Supplice's right arm, and Berlioz winces in pain. It was like getting hit with a baseball bat.

The light becomes too intense and they both back off, Quick Boosting away from each other, firing rounds from their rifles that grate and jolt their PA fields, wearing them down as the Kojima particles dance and scatter away from the two NEXTs. The two begin Quick Boosting from side to side, trying to avoid getting caught in the other's fire while at the same time attempting to predict the other's moves. The fight quickly begins to move to the beat of a dance of death, Berlioz's thoughts quickly turning from the current battle to a battle of the past. Fear of his own almost death grips him, and he begins to move quicker, a primal desire to stay alive gripping him fiercely.

Checking his diagnostics again, Berlioz is alarmed to learn that his PA field isn't regenerating, and that he's taking on more damage than he expected. The field is holding up, but not for long. He could only hope that he was dealing just as much damage to White Glint as White Glint was to him.

White Glint Quick boosts forward, using the 063ANAR in its left hand to hail a rain of bullets as the white NEXT closes the distance between the two. Berlioz fires his OGOTO grenade launcher, severely damaging the PA field as light begins to dance around White Glint. Sensing what was coming, Supplice Quickboosts backward and to the side as White Glint is engulfed in a bright white light that explodes outwards, the shockwave of the Assault Armor stirring up the dust and debris along the elevated highway. Reacting quickly, Supplice fires another OGOTO grenade towards White Glint now that its PA field is down. Unable to avoid the attack, White Glint takes the full brunt of the explosion.

Quick Boosting from side to side, Berlioz keeps firing grenades from his right mount while shooting from the MARVE in his left in a deadly barrage. White Glint tears up a part of the highway to shield itself from the blasts of the rifle and braces itself against the explosions of the grenades, temporarily enshrouded in dust and smoke. Supplice pauses in its firing, a sense of relief washing over Berlioz at the sudden quiet. Did he do it? Did he take down the NEXT of his nightmares?

A figure Quick boosts up from the smoke, pirouetting around and firing the 051ANNR in its right hand. Huffing in frustration, Supplice raises its MARVE rifle, knowing that if he were to fire any more grenades they were likely to miss in the air. He Quickboosts up and towards White Glint, firing out rounds that make contact with the damaged outer plating of the white NEXT.

White Glint's inactive PA field blinks back to life, blocking any further rounds from piercing through to the armor plating. Supplice continues on its offense, Quick Boosting around to dodge the fire from the enemy's 051ANNR as Supplice raises its own rifle, dual firing at White Glint as they flit about in the air, dodging from side to side and winding their way around the elevated highway, using it for cover. White Glint was preparing for something, but Berlioz wasn't waiting around to find out what.

Supplice catches up to White Glint, tracking its movements until Berlioz finds a clear opening. Stabbing White Glint's left elbow, Supplice tears apart connecting tubes and pieces, scattering coolant fluid about as White Glint momentarily loses control of its left arm, letting go of the 063ANAR. A bright white light begins to emit from White Glint's PA field, and Berlioz's stomach drops in dread. He had fallen into the trap.

White Glint's Assault Armor flares a blindingly bright white, blinding even Supplice's optics as an explosion resounds from the unique NEXT. Pain wracks Berlioz's body, and he almost loses control. Checking his metrics again, he sees his unit health go down drastically, all the way down to 30%. Feeling something jam into his shoulder joint, it takes him too long to realize what's happening while he's still disoriented from the AA blast. White-hot pain flares up his shoulder as the 051ANNR fires into his joint, making him lose all sensation in the limb as he drops his own 051ANNR. Supplice reacts with a strong kick, pushing White Glint away while he fires his remaining rifle, Quick Boosting away.

With both of their Primal Armor fields being down and the two NEXTs being a decent distance away from each other, they both land on the highway with a resounding _thud._ Berlioz takes a moment to catch his breath as he hears the crackling of a comms channel opening.

"Not bad. You're better than last time, but not good enough just yet. Keep practicing, you deserve that rank one." a familiar voice says.

This throws him off. Who was this guy? Did Berlioz know him?

"Who are you?"

White Glint's pilot laughs. "You _seriously_ didn't recognize me then, did you?"

Before Berlioz could reply, White Glint's PA field is back up and the NEXT is in motion, boosting to the side and firing off SALINE-05 missiles. Supplice has fast enough reflexes to fire his 051ANEM flares, diverting all but one lagging missile, which the 03-AALIYAH frame blocks with his arm, too busy thinking hard about who that voice belongs to.

Who? _Who was it?_

_No, I can't be thinking about that. _Supplice Quickboosts to the side, avoiding suppressing fire from the enemy's 051ANNR. Supplice's Primal Armor field tries to reform, but the rounds piercing through it prevent it from doing so. Moving from side to side, Berlioz attempts to buy some time. If only he could regain his PA field, maybe things could turn in his way…

"Don't think so hard, it's making you slow. You know better."

_What?_ Breaking free of his stupor, Berlioz tries to move away from the white NEXT, but it Overboosts and catches up to him, grabbing onto Supplice's limp right arm with White Glint's undamaged one, ripping the limb off. Berlioz howls in pain. This was similar, oh so similar to another time far back where he fought a certain merc-

Quickly, White Glint smacks him with his broken arm and jams it's rifle into the joint of the other one, firing and disabling Supplice's left arm with a few deft shots. Berlioz grits his teeth against the pain as White Glint kicks him down onto the broken asphalt.

"Anatolia's merc!" Berlioz sputters out.

"There you go," comes the reply before Berlioz passes out from the pain, a curtain of darkness descending over his vision as if to end this nightmarish scene.


End file.
